I Am Aware
by waltz of anomalies
Summary: Ironically, I met you in the fall - the time when things usually end. HRE/Italy one shot. Story of all the seasons.


A/N: I might add another chapter with extras, because I had to cut out some things I wanted to put in to fit the four seasons. I didn't have my friend look over this one either, so spelling and grammar mistakes are a huge "probably." I barely have anytime to write anymore, so this is a rather short one done in half an hour or so. Time escapes me a lot. I have no idea if I'm going to update my other story anymore, but I do have some of the next chapter done. We'll see.

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It is autumn, a time of death - death in the most beautiful and colorful way possible. It is the death of me, for I fall into the rough, calloused hands of an unknown ruler. I am controlled by the mood swings and decisions of a man, like the leaves are by the wind. And as I exit the storeroom with vibrant paints that pale only in comparison to the autumn scenery, I noticed you staring at me in your funny little hat. I had never seen a look so full of passion. Your face was the embers of a poorly put out fire. It scared me.

I am aware of your existence.

I never saw you again until one winter when the house felt silent and sad, and I was silent and sad. My stomach craved the food I could not receive, and my heart begged for the grandpa I could not meet. The only joy I found in life then was a sweet maid, the songs that man played for me occasionally, and the snow reflecting light from the sun. I never knew it then, but perhaps the house I lived in was the snow – only it looked like a bowl of rice porridge until you came and took your place as the sunlight. That day you filled my stomach with food (certainly not gourmet), but more importantly, my heart with your feelings.

I am aware of your existence.

If seasons were artists, spring would be the best artist out of them all. Between its jovial scenes of bunnies hopping or just relaxing and the heart-breaking ones when the rain comes down too hard and the world looks gray and dull, spring paints masterpieces. It is then I hold your hand, and you hold my heart. My hand guides yours as I teach you how spring draws and you teach me how you love.

I am aware of your existence.

The air turns unbearably warm and the grass protests and wilts from the heat. I waddle and splash into a stream to keep cool and find you already in there. (Rain clouds gather, and the grass gets pummeled with rain.) I will always laugh when I remember about how you reacted when I swam near you. (The grass, after drinking in the rain and taking a deep breath, stands green and proud after a storm.) Afterwards, you run to me, both of us fully clothed, and apologize. I hold your hand and tell you it's quite alright, and together we drink the lemonade you made. It was sweet. (The droplets of water on the grass shine in the sun like gold metals.)

I am aware of your existence.

Pink. Soft, sleep-inducing, baby-blanket baby pink. Your eyes provide the backdrop for this season. I don't know how long you've been gone now, but I waited for your return every day. Except now I can see the cherry blossoms falling, and the glorious deaths beginning. Your death came earlier than the leaves and flowers. And surely, your last breath was much more beautiful. I sit and watch the cherry blossoms fall, some dancing in the wind as the whole blossom, others spinning around just as a petal. One comes near, and I open my fingers, much slimmer now having lost baby fat, to catch one. I miss. Standing up, I reach out again only to find myself empty-handed. I begin running. I run and dance and run and skip and run and spin. Still nothing. Giving up, I fall to my knees on the uneven stone road. My knees and dress rip; my hands drop onto the ground, facing the sky. Heavy tears drop into them, and then a baby pink cherry blossom petal floats into them.

"Why is it when I chase you, you run away, and when I run away, you chase me?"

I close my hands, but too late. The wind has already blown it away, and all I catch are my tears.

I wish I kissed you longer; I wish I held onto you firmer.

I am no longer aware of your existence, but I will never forget that you existed.


End file.
